


After Omega

by LynMars79



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alphascape, Church of Saint Adama Landama, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, Gen, Thanalan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 06:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16424270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynMars79/pseuds/LynMars79
Summary: Cid is troubled after his adventures in the Interdimensional Rift, and seeks counsel from a trusted friend.Spoilers up through Stormblood's Omega raid and 4.4 "Prelude in Violet" MSQ.





	After Omega

**Author's Note:**

> Awhile ago I answered a headcanon prompt where I envision Cid occasionally visiting Father Iliud between adventures. The ending to Omega--and the doubts and introspection Cid went through during the entire quest chain--came together with that old prompt response to spawn this ramble.

The Council representatives finally let him go after hours of grueling questioning. The Keeper was probably the most strenuous; Cid sometimes felt his former countryman had it in for him, but the Storm Marshal assured him the young man was that thorough in all matters, especially as it might pertain to the safety of Gridania and the Elder Seedseer.

The thought of returning to Rhalgr’s Reach was wearying, though Cid had plenty of work to do there. Returning to headquarters proper also felt bothersome; more paperwork, more employee questions, more schematics and blueprints he could barely make sense of as his mind still tried to process all that had occurred in the Rift.

“Ready to head back to Gyr Abania, Chief?” Philiot asked, currently manning the wheel of the _Excelsior_. He turned and peered, concerned, when Cid did not respond immediately. “Chief?”

“Let Jessie know I’ll return to the Reach tomorrow,” Cid said finally. “There’s one more stop I need to make. Take the ship; I’m going to use the porters.”

Philiot hesitated, but soon enough the _Excelsior_ rose into the crisp midday sky, and flew away over the dusty plains of Thanalan. Cid watched until his ship was naught more than a speck before turning to the elevator that would lead from Ul’dah’s airship landing to the dusty city streets and the chocobo stalls.

The sun was low, the sky turning crimson, when the hired bird finally arrived in Drybone. Cid patted the creature and fed it a gysahl green himself. He had a much stronger appreciation for chocobos lately.

He could not help but wonder where his little friend was now as he trudged up the path out of the little town. Were he a religious man, Cid might have sent a prayer to Oschon to watch over Alpha on his journey of discovery. But even after all these years, the gods of Eorzea seemed distant and strange.

Cid hovered at the edge of the lichyard. Only the stones and flies kept him company; no mourners or clergy were visible. Someone was lighting the lamps in the chapel, turning the ramshackle building into the warm, welcoming sanctuary he recalled so well from his time as Marques.

The sun slid behind the western hills, and he knew that the desert’s nighttime chill would set in swiftly. Cid’s feet fell into familiar patterns as he wound up the path to the door of the small church.

Iliud was putting away the lamp oil and lighter, his back turned, as Cid closed the door. “Just a moment,” the priest said. “It’s only me here tonight, so I’m a bit slow.”

Cid smiled. “Please, take your time, Father.”

Iliud paused, and then turned, his smile bright. “Cid! Please, come in, come in. Have you eaten yet? I was about to put away the leftovers from supper.” He waved toward the back and the order’s living quarters.

“No, I only just arrived in Drybone, the old fashioned way,” Cid admitted. He quickened his pace just enough to get to the door ahead of Iliud, and held it for the old man. “I had a meeting in Ul’dah this morning, and took a nice long ride out here to help clear my head.”

“And did it?” Iliud asked as he moved to the counter in the cramped little kitchen, preparing a plate from the remnants of his humble meal.

Cid hesitated. He decided to cover his lack of words with action, stepping toward the counter to take over for the priest.

“Have a seat,” Iliud said, voice soft but insistent. Cid instantly obeyed, clasping his hands on the tabletop, letting out a tired breath.

It was the first time in a long time that he had sat in a chair that did not have a mountain of paperwork before it, with Jessie adding yet more stacks to the pile, by turns scolding and apologetic, as was her way.

“Where is everyone? Ourcen and Eluned are usually trying to keep you from their kitchen,” Cid asked.

“Traveling to Mor Dhona, if you can believe it,” Iliud answered, warming the dish on the simple stove. He hadn’t let Cid replace it with something more modern yet. “Mistress Alisaie has sent word to the Scions’ allies, seeking assistance in the peculiar condition of the Archons. Sisters Ourcen and Eluned have gone to offer aid and succor for now.” The priest chuckled. “They were somewhat fond of, and concerned for, Master Thancred.”

Cid smirked and shook his head. “Typical,” he said. Not an unusual reaction when it came to the rogue and women. Granted, the Archon had been far more reserved since--well, honestly, since his rescue in the Praetorium, though he had put on a good face for most people, up until it all went sideways in Ul’dah, anyroad. None of the Scions had come out of that and the following moons in Ishgard the same--if they had come back at all.

Cid wondered again what had truly happened to Minfilia, but every time one of the team asked, the Warrior of Light made such an odd face, they had stopped asking. While in Idyllshire dealing with Alexander and the Illuminati, Y’shtola had gone silent and retreated into her research, and that old witch Matoya had simply snorted and told Cid to stick to machina, not magic--while she looked with veiled concern toward Alphinaud, studying feverishly in a corner.

Where was that boy now, when his sister and fellow Scions needed him? What in the seven hells had _happened_ in the Burn?

Cid blinked from his reverie as Iliud put the plate down before him. “Eat,” the priest urged. “You’ve much on your mind, and food can only help.”

“It’s been a long few moons,” Cid answered. At Iliud’s gesture, he fell to eating, the old priest quietly watching and patiently waiting until Cid finished his meal. Once he had, Cid leaned back and let out a satisfied sigh. It was a plain repast, but comforting.

“You’ve been in Gyr Abania, with the war?” Iliud asked.

Cid shook his head. “My team and I spent most of our time searching for Omega, after being fool enough to activate the thing.”

“My understanding is there was no choice,” Iliud said.

“Not really...But I still feel responsible for the danger I introduced to the world.”

“Danger?” Iliud asked.

Cid nodded, and proceeded to tell Iliud about the hunt for Omega, and what happened when the Ironworks finally found it--Alpha, the Rift and the battles within, Midgardsormr, the altered Lunar Transmitter, the race across the stars and those final harrowing battles--and Omega itself, uncomprehending, as its long existence came to an end, even as Alpha’s truly began.

Iliud listened, nodding at times. “But everyone’s all right now, yes?”

Cid closed his eyes, trying to dispel images of Biggs and Wedge lying on the floor of Omega Control in Carteneau, bleeding and beaten. Of Nero collapsing after Sigmascape’s defeat, and realizing belatedly just how battered he truly was.

Cid recalled the icy touch of the void as he had clung desperately to Alpha, not knowing if his friend was still holding on as well, if there would be an end to the impossible journey and monotonous datalog recording.

“Cid?”

“More or less,” he finally replied, unexpectedly hoarse. He reached for his water glass. “Recovering. Gods only know what Nero’s up to now. And Alpha…” He smiled at the thought of the little chocobo. “I hope he’s having a grand time exploring the world.”

“If his explorations bring him here, he shall have a warm welcome, I assure you,” Iliud smiled too, though quickly returned to his neutral counselor’s expression. “So what is it that troubles you, Cid?”

Cid took a long moment to ponder that, slowly swirling his glass. “At one point, Nero and I figured there was some of my old self that I saw in Omega,” he said slowly. “The student I was, only caring about the data and the results. I thought about how I grew, and changed, due to...so many things. Things I’ve seen and done, people I’ve met. It’s all shaped me into who I am now. But Omega...didn’t have that. The times it came out of dormancy, it had to fight. Even at the end, it struggled to understand.”

Cid looked up. “Might it have, with more time? With _our_ understanding? Or was I so focused on the results, on the data, that I didn’t even consider options besides rising to its challenge and fighting? Of sending _my friend_ in to battle that danger, because that’s...what we _always_ do? I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head, shoulders slumping. “I’m not making sense.”

“You are,” Iliud said gently. “You’re mourning.”

Cid blinked. “Mourning? For _Omega_?”

Iliud nodded. “A being from ancient stars, who struggled with its expectations and programming, trying to learn, to grow--but in the end, finding itself hindered and limited. And I don’t mean the lightning vulnerability you discovered. Is it any wonder you should sympathize? Does it deserve less, for only being what it was, what it could only be?”

“It nearly killed some of the people dearest to me, threatened all life upon this star, it--”

“As has Imperial magitek, some of which you had a hand in designing,” Iliud said bluntly.

Cid said nothing.

Iliud sighed and leaned forward. “Omega was a tool, yes, but also a living being, by many definitions. There was potential there, of course--but though it demonstrated the means to grow beyond the bounds of its programming, it chose not to, so singular was its focus. Perhaps that could have changed, had it been active longer, for more than combat. Perhaps not.”

“How do you figure it could grow beyond its programming? I studied it in detail, and I saw no indication of--”

“Alpha,” Iliud said simply. “Consider, that in order to create life, it had to process the information used to form such life. Had its focus turned toward analysis for understanding, rather than mimicry, things may have been quite different.” The old priest smiled again. “But I am not telling you anything you have not already figured out, even if you cannot admit it.”

“It couldn’t tell history from fiction, fact from myth.”

“And you wonder if things would be different had someone guided it to those understandings, as you were guided to seeing a different path after Bozja.”

Cid watched the motion of the water as he slowly swirled the cup.

Iliud sighed. “Mayhap Omega would have changed, had it decided to do as Alpha, and learn from mortal companions. But it chose to blindly follow its hostile programming, even as it made independent decisions, such as creating the Rift and new lifeforms to begin with, while having no concern for those lifeforms, or those others it drew in. You cannot feel responsible for the machine’s choices, anymore than you could Gaius’.”

Cid flinched slightly; he and Iliud had spent many bells discussing Cid’s ambivalence toward the late Legatus. “I know. And goodness knows Omega was a threat, but I don’t know if it was capable or not of learning how to truly feel, to gain a heart and soul as a living being...and that...saddens me.”

“The lost potential, or your not knowing?”

“Both, I think. Maybe that latter is selfish of me.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps it is simply part of being mortal,” Iliud said. “We not only mourn what was lost, but also what our own personal world may have been like, when tragedy changes our small corner of it. ‘Tis simply a part of losing a person, a place, a moment of importance. There is nothing wrong with grieving for the unfulfilled, the might-have-beens. ‘Tis part of the process.”

Iliud gave Cid time to process that. Outside, the wind moaned through the lichyard. Inside, the chronometer he had repaired on a previous visit ticked in a reassuring beat.

“The trick is to not get stuck in it,” Cid finally said, looking at Iliud for confirmation.

The old priest smiled. “Indeed. There’s so much to take solace in, in the reality we’re given, that to obsess over the what-could-have-been does a disservice to those lost--and ourselves.” He stood, and stretched, picking up Cid’s plate. “All in one’s own time, of course.”

Cid nodded. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure the others would quite understand. Not after Omega tried to kill us so many times.”

Iliud shook his head as he put the plate in the sink. “We all have our own responses to things; you found a connection to Omega, and a way to sympathize, despite everything. But you also did what had to be done, to safeguard our world.”

“Well, we all know who did the heavy lifting.”

“I am certain our friend would say you more than did your part. But come; it’s growing late, and I can see how tired you are after everything. We can speak more in the morning, if needed.”

Cid nodded again as he stood. “Maybe a good night’s sleep will help, and you can catch me up on the local news and gossip instead,” Cid said, grinning.

Iliud chuckled and waved Cid off as he retired to his own chamber. Cid turned down the hall to the familiar little cell he had stayed in as Marques; there had not been much need to use it for anything else, nor any new brothers or sisters of the order to put there, so Cid continued to use the room whenever he visited Iliud and the others.

The room was barely large enough for him to turn around in. The mattress was thin, the blanket heavy and a tad scratchy. Cid didn’t mind, settling in, watching the stars between the tree branches through the window.

It felt like coming home.

Outside, the world kept spinning, safe from the ancient machine. Somewhere, a small chocobo and his toy companion were exploring that world. Cid’s team--his friends--were safe, and on the morrow, he would wake and tinker and repair a few things around the chapel for the Father before returning to Rhalgr's Reach.

If he were a religious man, perhaps Cid would say a prayer to Thal for Omega, despite its lack of a soul.

Or maybe, simply a prayer for himself.

Contemplating that, the memories of the Rift, and even the conversation with Iliud, fell away and sleep came for the engineer far easier than he expected.

Perhaps Eorzea’s gods were listening after all.


End file.
